Is There A Prescription For That?

Hi, my name is Natalie, and I’m a horrific procrastinator.

Also, I have problems self-motivating (don’t tell my resume that, it’ll have an identity crisis).

I have owned a shiny new gym membership for the past 30 days and have yet to set foot inside said gym, nor have I managed to return to the studio for classes since Halloween.  I owe my grandparents Thank You cards from Christmas and, yes, I still owe some people wedding and baby-birthday Thank You cards as well.  There’s a stack of laundry that’s mostly clean on the chair in our room, and I’m pretty sure Bryce’s room has two hampers in it – one that’s clean and one that’s not.  I have an entire empty wall of massive emptiness that I swore I was going to paint something for about three months ago…and speaking of paintings!  There’s one that I gridded and prepped and got no further on…roughly six months ago.

I think there’s a baby running around here who probably could do with feeding, I guess.  (kidding)

Actually, the kid thing I’m pretty ok at.

The rest of it…

I start with the best of intentions.  Brian and I had planned a New Years plan (because I hate the word “resolution” almost as much as I hate the word “alliance”) of sorts.  We were beginning “Project Awesome” – a two sided quest to both be healthy physically, and perhaps physically ridiculously good looking.  Hahaha, that sounds awful.

Some context may help matters.  We both (me) would love to be a bit healthier when it comes to what we eat and drink.  So far, he’s gone 10 days without soda and french fries.  That’s a huge start!  Me, well, I’m…I dunno.  I’ve broken my habit of having a beer or two at work after every shift, and that has to count for something.  I could do better.  The physical side of things…I feel like there’s no tactful way of saying things that relate to size and body shape and all that.  Both of us maintain a reasonable shape with minimal effort (by “effort”, I mean exercise.  I ABSOLUTELY have to put effort into watching what I consume).  When we DO put in effort, we tend to get results quite quickly.  At the end of last year, we were joking around and I quite seriously presented the notion of a “what would happen if we actually tried?” sort of fitness quest.  I’m honestly curious what would happen if we consistently hit the gym, and worked out there too!

I figure now is a good starting point.  He’s the weight he likes to be (180 at 6’1″), all but being less ten pounds of muscle or so.  I’m the size I was at my smallest in 2006/2007, which is about where I’d like to be with about ten pounds max to lose, and no I’m not sharing my weight – for some, including myself, reading what women weigh and what they consume is a nauseating trigger.  The point of this is, we’re at a good baseline.  And still…

The motivation is crap.

And that Thank You card thing…I’ll be honest, I panic when I think about them.  I did back then, I do now.  I’m quite aware that it’s a horrific faux pas to have let this much time pass.  The reasons as to why (besides the crap procrastinator I happen to be at times) are probably more personal that I’d go in to here, and however legitimate they may be it doesn’t excuse it.  Nor does it reflect my gratefulness.  I’ve valued every single thing we have been gifted, whether it be wedding related or Bryce related, and yet that gratitude still can’t motivate me to write a card.  Or 27.

I hate this, to be honest.  I hate this inability to complete things that other people seem to manage just fine.  Between the baby and work and husband, I tend to have a fully occupied mind that can’t juggle much more than the day-to-day, and sometimes even THAT is pushing it (read: laundry, etc.).  The moms that manage multiple children, work, cooking, cleaning, husbandry of husbands, and maintain a social life in addition to all that – I’m pretty sure you’ll all either gifted with some sort of genetic code I wasn’t or you’re all massively medicated.  Or both.  Or neither, and I’m being a jerk.

Perhaps I was gifted with the mental capacity to juggle a dozen trains of thought at a time, but I sure didn’t get the synapses to activate the physical manifestation of such intended effort.  Anyone else identify?  Obviously, I don’t fall on the far end of the spectrum where I can accomplish nothing.  I do know that there’ve been times in my life where this wasn’t so bad.  But, I also don’t fall on the end of the spectrum that some would label “accomplished”.

Is there a prescription for that?

I hear coke’s great for this sort of thing, but I’m not willing to go there just yet.

I’d just like to know how most people go from thought or intention into action with relative seamlessness, because I could sure use a lesson or two or four.

 

 

I’m Talking To YOU (But Mostly, Me.)

First of all, I’ll admit that I’ve been and still can be guilty of what follows just as much as any other individual.  Second, when I use terms like “Dodger Fans” and “Christians”, I use them as broad sweeping statements and I’m aware that people who identify themselves by these monikers don’t necessarily fall into the generalization that such statements imply.  That said.

I want to talk about God, sort of.

There are two conversations that play into why I would need to begin with a preface.  One of them occurred several months ago between Brian and I.  We were talking about God and the Church and I’m not sure what the segue was, but Brian said the following…

“You know, how I feel about God is kind of like how I feel about the Dodgers.”

I think I gave some sort of “Huh?” response, and he continued.

“Well, in theory, the Dodgers are great.  I love their history and what they’ve done for baseball.  I love what the team used to stand for.  What I can’t stand is the fans.”

Of course there was clarification as to what he meant by fans, something I was familiar with, as in the kind of people who become violent against anyone not wearing Dodger blue in the vicinity of their stadium and the kind of people who’ll, I dunno, STAB someone or beat the crap out of them for not being fellow Dodger fans.  Those.

“No matter how much I may want to love the Dodgers, I mean, they’re a southern California team, I just can’t because of the fans.  So when it comes to God…it’s the fans.”

By “Fans”, he means “Christians”.  And by “Christians” he means the ones who’ll hold a Bible in one hand and metaphorically stab their fellow believer, or any passerby who doesn’t agree, with the other.

I have a really hard time arguing with him on this one.  He makes a good point.

The second conversation was really more of an interaction that happened this past sunday while in the children’s parking lot of ROCKHarbor.  For those who aren’t familiar, there are designated parking lots that are remarkably closer than others intended for use by families with kids under a certain age.  The idea being it’s easier and safer to get kids from cars to buildings if the distance to be traveled is minimized.  Makes sense, right?  Well, what doesn’t make sense is when fellow church goers decide to appoint themselves parking lot attendants and enforcers…especially when their facts aren’t so straight.

This past Sunday morning, I had just reverse parked into a spot in one of these said designated parking lots.  I don’t really drive the RH typical SUV or minivan or alternately acceptable BMW or Mercedes.  Nope, I drive a 1998 two-door Chevy with a questionable paint job.  I had just parked and shut off the engine when a lady (mom in a SUV…we’ll call her MIS) stopped her car directly in front of mine and rolled down her window.  I went to community college, so I’m pretty familiar with some forms of parking lot etiquette, and one of them is to acknowledge another motorist and inform them of your intent to depart or remain.  I figured this MIS would be inquiring my intent, though I did honestly wonder why – we had clearly JUST parked.  Instead, after a few moments of really nasty glaring on her part, this is what followed:

“You know, this is the CHILDREN’S parking lot!!!”, she said with such anger and (she thought) righteous anger.

Clearly, MIS had observed my sup-par vehicle and lack of obvious evidence of a child-like-creature, and had reacted…I would say accordingly, but the way she acted wasn’t really in keeping with the circumstances, so I’ll just say she “reacted”.  There are many number of things that ran through my head as retorts, but most of them stuttered because they get nervous in confrontation.  What managed to escape my mouth with mild hesitation, though lacking stutter was, “That’s probably why we have a baby in the back seat.”

Yeah, I could have been kinder.  I also could not have.

What I couldn’t do was fathom why in the world this MIS felt it appropriate to police the CHURCH parking lot.  Obviously, she didn’t see the baby in the back seat and just assumed we were a couple young(ish) people looking for close parking.  As it turns out, we have 1.25 year-old that happened to be with us and in her car seat.  What she probably didn’t stop to consider was the likelihood that someone who parks in the supposed “wrong” location may well be new to the church…and the further likelihood that such a new individual treated in such a rude manner likely wouldn’t remain at the church for much longer.  In fact, if I’d been a new person, I probably would have left.

As it turns out, I’m not new.  Also, I wasn’t in the wrong.  But what I was, from that moment on, was slightly askew.  There’s something about being treated in such an abrupt and surprising way that throws you slightly off kilter.  Bummer is, I WAS with someone who is sort of new-ish to the Church.

Brian.

I bring up these two instances as the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.  They are two examples among many of ways that the Church has done its self, and far more importantly God, a massive disservice.  Yes, a whole can not be judged by only some of its parts and similarly the Source can’t necessarily be judged by its representatives.  That argument holds much more water when you already know the Source.  If you don’t, well…it’s just bad advertising.

And honestly, I’m running out of excuses for them.

It is very hard to speak of a God of love, acceptance, and grace when His people demonstrate nothing of the sort.  We are obviously talking about humans and they are inherently human, but come on, people.  It honestly drives me batty watching people talk about their “ministry” and going to conferences and handing out tracts and getting all crazy about Tebow when they are, in and of themselves, horrific ambassadors for anyone who doesn’t call themselves “Christians”.  Lets face it, your classes and qualifications and “knowledge” mean very little if it doesn’t translate into real evidence of said [insert Christianese word for classes, qualifications, and "knowledge" here] amongst those who don’t believe in God.  If you can only speak Christianese (which is totally a Christianese word) that’s not much help because the only ones you’ll have much relevance to are “Christians”, and I’m pretty sure they’re already on the same team.

Frances Chan spoke at our church not too long ago, and though I may not agree with everything he teaches, there was something he said that day which really resounded with me.  I’m paraphrasing:

“Christians, stop being weird.  STOP.  IT.  You go into work and say you’re “persecuted” and people don’t like you because you’re a Christian.  No, people don’t like you because you’re weird.  Stop being WEIRD.”

What he meant is something I can so very much relate to.  As someone who’s been raised in the church, I’ve honestly seldom felt a part of it.  There’s always been the core groups of “spiritual” people who pray in public for each other and talk God-speak like it’s their only language and who only listen to contemporary christian music and who’s girls wear jeans, sweaters, and tennis shoes.  (broad sweeping statements and generalizations, I know.)  I’ve not really been a part of that group.  Regardless of what the state of my relationship with God was, I’ve never really fit in with those.

He continued with, “If you’re invited to your co-workers parties, go to their parties!  Just because you’re there doesn’t mean you have to get drunk, do drugs, or have sex if that’s what’s going on.  Go there and be yourself.  Be friends with these people.”

He then went on to relay a story where he was in a hot tub one night at such a party and a girl in a bikini holding a beer said “baptise me, Frances!”.  Perhaps her true conviction was lacking, but the point is he was a relatable human being.  He was normal, he just happened to love Jesus and not let anything that was negative make him waiver.  He was un-weird.

I prefer to be un-weird.

Please don’t misunderstand my point.  I am not saying that all of the above classes, knowledge, christianese, prayer, God-speak, and Tebow love aren’t great.  They are!  My point is simply that if you are so focused on something that can only translate to those who already believe in God, you are limiting yourself, and by proxy, potentially limiting what God could do with those around you who DON’T believe in God.

To boil it down to my main point:

If you believe in a God who is Love, then that love means so many things that should radically change who you are with EVERYONE, not just those who agree with you.  If you’re convicted that He is who He says He is and all that entails – because lets face it, it’s kind of a package deal – then that should translate to a change in behavior and heart, rather than an added “spiritual resume” that only the church folk are going to care about.  No one outside of the church cares if you’ve attended every seminar your church has provided or if you’ve been through special training.

They care if you love.
They care if you’re joyful.
They care if you spread peace.
They care if you’re patient.
They care if you’re kind.
They care if you’re a good person.
They care if you’re faithful, both to what you believe and to those around you.
They care if you’re gentle.
They care if you’re self-controlled.

Maybe it’s too tall an order for someone to walk the line of representing Christ without repelling anyone who doesn’t agree with and conform to them on the spot.  Somehow, I don’t think it is.

Like I said, I’m running out of excuses for the Church community at large because there is such a huge contradiction between what they’re preaching and what they’re actions are saying.  It’s really hard to tell someone that God loves them when His people don’t show it.

I’m one person.  I’m aware of how I’ve not exactly lived this out.  It is hard for me to watch the Christian community and how, by and large, they seem to be gradually getting battier.  It doesn’t help to have prominent politicians who’s theology is spotty and who’s character is questionable.  It doesn’t help to have churches protesting funerals of servicemen and women in the name of god.  Heck, even Tebow isn’t helping anymore…because the church went all crazy and started reading into the fact that he ran 316 yards in a playoff game for the win, and somehow inserted a colon where they wanted it to mean what they wanted it to mean.  And when they did that, they got the eye roll from many.

Why can’t we just let a man who’s ACTUALLY living out his faith, live out his faith.  He was doing way better than most of us.  We’re not helping.

I’m just saying.

This is all just a piece of my opinion, and I’m sure most of it hasn’t come across as intended.  My point is, why can’t we start being an un-weird group of loving, caring, honest people who’ll talk about God if the subject comes up, but who aren’t going to shove a tract in your hand just because we want to.  I can’t see anything wrong with “Preaching the gospel at all times and when necessary use words” (St. Francis Of Assisi.  Cool dude.).  Much better advertising, I think.

Tables & Other Objects Of Monumental Significance

If you’ve been to our house at any point in time wherein it was referred to as “our house”, then I’m going to apologize.

I’m sorry.

There.

Perhaps my other half would disagree, but I’ve felt something of a sense of awkwardness about the general state of the apartments we have called home within the last year plus.  Somehow, we’ve never really fully moved in.  In Orange, I suppose we were the closest to something called “moved in”, but not really – we still had an entire room that never really got unpacked or used.  The problem may have been that we simply weren’t there long enough to establish a sense of home.  Indeed, it’s taken us 9.5 months to fully arrange furniture and organize the filler.  We could have gestated a baby in that amount of time (SO GLAD WE WERE NOT GESTATING A FETUS), but instead we now have a kitchen table.

Yeah, we’ve never had a kitchen table.  We’re really not into the formal dining, so it admittedly hasn’t been at the top of our priority list.  The space that some would refer to as the “dining area” in our apartment has mostly been the “storage area” for random things with no homes as well as the larger toys that Bryce hasn’t quite out grown.  Oddly enough, child toys only seem to get bigger as they get older.  And more in the way.

In celebration of Brian’s birthday, we were gifted an awesome pub-height dining table.  Yes, I’m aware that most people probably wouldn’t place furniture on their birthday wish list, but we’re also talking about a family that contains a girl who once asked for and received rotors for Christmas (guilty).  It may sound completely daft, but that silly (not silly) addition to our home ended up being the most monumental pieces of furniture perhaps ever.  Really, that table kind of gave us something resembling “home”.

I’m trying not to harp on our house too much, as I am probably 60% responsible for its state of not-done, but up until last week our residence has resembled that of what I assume most college students’ resembles: unfinished, with a refrigerator that generally contains a liquid diet of beer, milk, juice, and various condiments on the side.  Ok…so add to unfinished a vast array of children’s toys and a rack of drying bottles, and you probably could get the picture.  Our Magic Table (known as MT from here on out) spurred a massive overhaul, cleaning, rearranging, and whateverelse-ing that has left us with the finished product of an AMAZING apartment.

Yes, It’s so good it even deserves all caps.

Oh!  And add to that our other object of monumental significance:

Meow.

This is Leeloo.  Leeloo is named for the 5th Element and we adopted her from the animal shelter last week, also.  After getting through a rough first couple days, what with her battling an upper respiratory infection (sadly very common for shelter cats) and refusing to eat, we now have a rather wonderful addition to the family.

Yes, adding MT and Leeloo to the family has somehow changed quite a lot.  Granted, MT was the start of an avalanche of overhaul, and Leeloo is a living creature and so likely shouldn’t be lumped in the same category as wooden object…but both have significance in and of themselves.

This could all sound so silly, and I’m so very aware of that.  My struggle to feel like a moderately well-ish adjusted adult is pretty explicitly documented in these archives, so hopefully with that context this makes a bit more sense.  Having a home that feels like home is something I haven’t really had in years, even after being married with a baby.  Finally having that…it’s quite monumental.  Corny, yeah.  But awesome.

What’s The Word I’m Looking For?

I’ve been under the misguided presumption that the word “snarky” has always represented statements that may occur if cynicism and sarcasm were to get together and have a cute little snarky baby.  I say cute because my brand of sarcasm generally isn’t rooted in cruelty, and my cynicism (though admittedly rampant) generally isn’t founded in hate.  I guess I’ve sort of seen “snarky” as a cute little tongue-in-cheek positive wearing sparkly cute horns.

I’m wrong, as it turns out.

Originally, it was British slang in relation to being “testy or irritable”.  Since then it’s meaning has broadened to include that which I’ve thought…something along the lines of “sarcastic, impertinent, or irreverent in tone or manner”…but really, not so cute.  And no sparkle on the horns, I may add.

I used to find those who were bitingly clever and so quick with their cut throat sarcasm endlessly entertaining.  Still, I do think that the most hilarious of humans are those who possess a slightly off kilter take on things and who can effortlessly interject their immediate wit into just about any conversation.  What troubles me slightly is the turn that the snarkiness has taken.  In truth, it’s probably reverting back to its original meaning and then some.

Anyone else notice that those who used to be just sarcastic are now sort of just A-holes?

(I couldn’t find a nicer word that was fitting.)

Really, I first noticed it with my favorite blogger.  She’s the wife of a former pastor of my church and I’ve followed her and her playful stories and womp womp-ness of motherhood for years now.  She’s always been hilarious.  She’s always had a bit of an ironic sense of humor.  She’s always been sarcastic.  But now…

That humor is mostly gone, and that irony is no longer founded in the jovial, and that sarcasm isn’t just snarky, and it’s more than just cynical, and honestly I’m pretty sure it’s just downright mean.

And that got me noticing others out there.  Friends, husbands of friends, guests at restaurants we may or may not work at…they’re all getting so mean.

Again, “mean” doesn’t really encompass the full nastiness (and neither does “nasty”) of these people.  It’s really starting to bum me out that we’ve all collectively, it would seem, abandoned the use of sarcasm as an expression of humor and segued into using it as thinly veiled cruelty.  Very, very, very, thinly veiled.

I’ve really been trying to examine what comes out of my mouth these days in terms of sarcasm and snarkiness, and look at where the root of it is.  Unfortunately, we’re in the retrospective phase of examination, but I do hope to progress to the pre-screening stage in the not so distant future.  In my case, regardless of how it may have been perceived in the past, my sarcasm has seldom if ever been motivated by cruelty.  I’ve come to the conclusion that cynical sarcasm, when it involves commentary on others, is the stepping stone to becoming an A-hole.

Yes, my favorite blogger is no longer funny.  She’s actually become kind of a nasty and mean individual, at least in that which she publicized about anyone other than herself…which is, as I’ve above stated, a bummer.  Sadly, she’s hardly the only one.

Here’s where the thesis of this installment comes in: I think that the combination of a descending quality of sarcasm, a ton of really offended people, and the veils of our computer screens are slowly turning us into creatures incapable of human-to-human kindness.

Between Twitter, and Facebook, and our blogs and whatever else we have to hide behind on our laptops, we’re not interacting with real people on a real level.  We’re making snap “likes” and trivial flippant comments here and there.  We’re judging EVERYTHING about everyone (Oh, I’m SO guilty of this myself.  Don’t get me started on the odd fascinator-esque headpieces grown women are wearing…I don’t get it.) and what once was probably kept to ourselves is now becoming open season for mockery and…snarkiness.  We’re de-humanizing the humans in our lives.  We digitalize something and all of a sudden it’s ok to be a jerk.  Again…I don’t get it.

This has become more and more apparent to me now that I’ve re-entered the workforce.  It’s been years since I was in restaurants, and given my family and relationship requirements, it made more sense to go back to serving than it did to a nine-to-five desk job.  In those years, though, I’m a bit sad to notice that people seem to have declined a bit in the people skills department.  But it’s not just there – it’s everywhere.

Look on the news.  Look in the comments section on any given article, on just about any publication.  Look at the trending topics on Twitter (no, don’t).  People just don’t know how, or maybe they just refuse to be nice.  Maybe we all need to unplug a bit, or just tone it down a tad.  But jeez, people.  Where’s the kindness?

And where is my cute sparkly horned snark?!

Oh yeah:

Snark:
noun
a mysterious, imaginary animal.

 

 

 

Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder tooday.

Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam…

Ahh, The Princess Bride.  Classic.

I figure I used up my allotted amount of preamble in the last post or two, so I’ll cut to the chase of this evenings post.  I want to talk about marriage.  Not in the tongue-in-cheek way I wrote about a month or two ago, and not in the debating hetero vs. homosexual way I stumbled into before that, but rather in the “Gahh!!  DANGER!!  DANGER!!” way I feel at the moment.

No, there’s nothing amiss in our marriage.  I don’t think.

What’s scaring the fluffy bunnies out of me is this world I have become privy to since joining the Wedded Club.  Before now, I’ve mostly seen marriage to be a simple beast.  You love, you love (wink, wink), you take care of each other (not wink, wink), honor, respect, blah blah blah.  You date without the training wheels.  I say mostly because there are two specific situations prior to now that clued me into the idea that maybe it wasn’t quite as straightforward as I thought.  One of them was the sister of a dear friend of mine – she married her high school sweetheart then, without details that aren’t mine to share, it wasn’t long before they were divorced.  And…my world was rocked.  Divorce was supposed to be something strangers did, not those I loved.  I can’t convey how much my ideas of love and marriage fractured over a story that wasn’t even mine.

The second was a marriage of 12 years that I became far too familiar with.  I came to know, though one-sided, the decay of a “love at first sight” kind of romance into what became a “comfortable”, though lackluster, marriage.  They were perfect for each other, really.  Both attractive, even to looking similar.  Both from similar backgrounds.  Both narcissistic.  The only thing they didn’t match in was their interest in the marriage.

The outcome of these individuals stories isn’t important.  What I took away from these stories also isn’t important to what I have to ponder on at the moment.  What is important is the fear that began.  I realized something that grew and became utterly terrifying: None of them got into their marriages thinking it wouldn’t last, but they got taken out anyway.

Very few people enter a long-term relationship thinking “this is a terrible idea that will end horribly”.  Or maybe they do, I don’t know.  I know I’ve dated people thinking this in the short-term, but that’s why I never said any vows or signed the contract.  Generally you say the vows and sign the contract required by the state because you’d like it to work out.  Right?  So…what goes wrong?

And that…that’s where I’m horrified.

Horrified may be the wrong word.  Whatever the word is that encapsulates the notion regarding fear of the unknown mixed with a little emergency preparedness…that.

I’ve seen relationships dive head first into crap-ville.  I’ve watched the ship go flaming down into the depths of misery and have stood from the shore going “What just happened?  WHERE WAS THE TORPEDO?”  Sometimes it’s obvious – he wasn’t supported, cared for, loved (wink, wink), known both in the literal and biblical sense of the word.  She wasn’t taken seriously, listened to…whatever else.  He worked too much.  She was depressed.  He cheated.  She made out with people who weren’t her husband, then just a bit more, and a bit more, and…yeah.  Those are the obvious things.

It’s how you get from “I DO!” to “Meh” that has me so concerned.

Maybe I’m so aware of it because of what I’ve witnessed in the past, but I think it has more to do with the attitudes that we both are surrounded with now.  There was a gathering we were a part of not too long ago where there were three or four couples hanging out at a friend’s house.  The women seemed to gravitate to one room with the wine, the men to the other with the beer.  My husband, however, wasn’t so keen to join the guys – something I wasn’t aware of (since he did indeed join the guys eventually) till later during our reflection on the evening.  It was then that he made a remark about them giving him crap for being “such a newlywed” and how he’d “get over that quick”.  I asked him what the heck he was talking about, and he said:

“When I walked off with them at the park to find drinks, I told them I needed to say goodbye to you first.  They said ‘You kiss your wife goodbye?!’ and I said ‘Always’, to which they replied ‘you’re such a newlywed.  You’ll get over that quick.’”

I’ve never demanded he do anything of the sort, and yet, the last thing he does before leaving my presence is kiss me goodbye and the first thing he does when he gets home is kiss me hello.  I, on the other hand, suck at maintaining such consistency – mostly because my head has 352 trains of thought going at a time and I get distracted from the things that matter far more than the rabbit trail.  This evening in question though, he continued:

“You kept wanting me to ‘spend time with the guys’, but those guys are so negative and miserable.  I’d rather hang out with you.”

Coolest guy ever, by the way, but he has a valid point besides that.  There is an element of bummer at times with these participants and their marriages.  There’s a sense of “putting up with” their wives, rather than cherishing and enjoying them.  Or an air of resentment or frustration…I don’t know.  That’s their deal.  It’s also what media is so good at projecting about the institution.  Media sells us a bum deal when it comes to the idea of marriage.  There’s nothing “loving” about what we’re sold these days – all of it sows dissension and resentment.

What scares me is that, just as the afore-mentioned couples probably didn’t get into their marriages hoping they would crash and burn, these two probably didn’t sign up hoping to one day dissuade a newly(ish) married guy from loving communication with his wife.  I’m judging, perhaps.  But still…

It scares me.

I don’t want to go from where we are now to a land of bitterness and disinterest.  I know we’re not even yet at the high point, there are years to build to that.  What I don’t want to happen is those years turn into a gradual decay, and the evidence I’ve seen proves that it’s easier to happen than you’d think.  But where…where are those pivotal moments?  Where are those decisions and interactions that fork from good to bad?  Have I missed them?

I think it’s very realistic to acknowledge that marriage is a daily project.  It’s a series of moment to moment choices and attitudes.  Beyond that, I don’t have it figured out.  What I do figure is that we don’t have to buy into the media and it’s nonsense.  I don’t think marriage has to be a bleak mill-stone tied around ones neck.  I don’t think it’s a death sentence.  I don’t think you have to reach a point where things are “comfortable”, but not interesting or compelling.  Yes, there’s highs and lows, good days and bad…but it doesn’t have to be such a bummer.

Before we married I once told him I saw marriage as having a best friend with benefits who you refuse to quit on.  I still kinda think that.  Does it really have to be more complicated?  At the end of the day, once you’ve said “I do”, nearly every action, discussion, debate, decision, etc. can be considered in the light of “Regardless how I feel right now, do I choose to love you?”…and act accordingly.  And yes, when you’re really annoyed with the other person, the last think you want to do is swallow your pride and act with love.

I, admittedly, suck at this from time to time.  It’s something I’m working on.  I know that’s not the ultimate answer here, but it’s a part of it.

One of my loveliest and wisest friends once wrote a blog post years ago entitled (something like) “The Horrible, Awefullness of Marriage”.  In it, she laid out exactly what the title said – the horrible, awefullness that was marriage.  The struggles.  The conflict.  The learning how to mesh two people into one joint effort of a life and the awkward feelings around it all.  It was honest.  It was brutally so.  To date, I think it is one of the most encouraging things I have read when it comes to relationships.  To me, encouragement doesn’t come from pure sunshine and roses – encouragement comes from someone truthfully saying “yep, it can suck at times…but it’s worth it”.  That’s the message that perhaps the first mentioned relationships forgot, the middle mentioned have lost sight of for the moment, and the media refuses to give airtime to – it’s worth it.

Fighting for it is worth it.  Kisses for no reason at all, perhaps are for a much greater reason in the long run.  Love, regardless of the situation and the pride and the feelings…it’s worth it.

The Princess Bride, though comical, had a few rad lines.  This isn’t the best of them, but it’s fitting.

The Impressive Clergyman: And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva… So tweasure your wuv.